Thoughts
by InfiKnight
Summary: Grimmjow's train of thought of the life he has led as a Menos.


It was laughable to even consider the possibility that there was even a human that could surpass him when it came to strength and skills.

He was an Arrancar, and rightly so. He had evolved, slowly and steadily to gain the ranking and position he now held.

As an Adjuchas, he had spent an extraordinarily long amount of time hunting those weaker than him, showing no mercy as he ripped off piece after piece of flailing flesh. For one with no patience, he had proven himself capable of waiting when the time came.

Each surge of power he felt with every unneeded creature in Hueco Mundo torn apart was barely enough to satisfy his impatience, but he had bided his time well. He had hunted as if on a frenzy, as if the only meaning to life was to gain the position of a Vasto Lorde.

And indeed it was. Grimmjow was never one for patience, but when he had something he wanted, he obtained it, even at his own expense.

_Power._ The ability to completely overwhelm and crush an opponent set him on fire, the very thought of it making his blood boil in excitement, the corner of his lips twitching as he struggled to contain his excitement and bloodlust.

Weaklings didn't deserve to exist in his world. All who were incapable of holding their own against Grimmjow were considered enemies. Of course, that was only limited to those who actually thought they even had a chance to best him.

Most Adjuchas were similar. The same baseless pride in abilities they did not have, the same words as they tried to brag of their abilities and how many they had killed. They looked down on him.

It didn't matter to Grimmjow at all. Weaklings who dared to even swipe at him when they had clearly no skill irked him, but it was easy to distinguish who was on top and who was nowhere near. Just a bite- just one bite and that would level himself up further, a few more rips of the talkative low-leveled creatures and his confidence would be boosted yet again as he watched his prey as a hawk would, eyes focused as he relished the shrieks of blinding pain of being forcibly torn apart. _I am king._

It was in his instincts. _Kill or be killed._ If he didn't want to be killed, then he would be brutal. It was something the panther side of him welcomed, and most of the time, he saw no need to hide his urges for blood and some action.

In the deserts or wastelands, as he deemed them, there was little entertainment. Every weirdly shaped creature that dared challenge him served to feed his anticipation for someone strong, where he would be unable to rely on merely animalistic instinct. However, time and again, he would be disappointed with small fry, unable to defend and weak even when on the offence. There was the occasional Adjuchas of a slightly higher level than the last, but always, _always,_ they were so easily disposed of. They hardly posed a challenge, something Grimmjow craved.

He had bided his time.

He had spent every minute and second seeking out any of his species, vigilantly looking out for the Vasto Lordes he dearly hoped he would be able to meet someday and challenge.

He had spent what free time he had to perfect his skills and improve his movements, big and somewhat clumsy he was as a panther.

He had joined those he felt worthy, left and eaten others who lacked ambition.

He had taken the trust of Shawlong, Edrad, Yylfordt, Nakeem and Di Roy and eaten them, sealing any chances of them becoming a far more powerful being.

It was a slow process, but he had endured it all.

He, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, who had gained the ability to remove his mask at will. He, who had evolved into an Arrancar, the species second only to the Vasto Lordes. He, who held the position as the 6th Espada in Aizen's Army.

Apart from those of a higher ranking than him, he acknowledged no one's skills, and especially not a little Shinigami representative- a representative who wasn't capable of being called a proper Shinigami- who held as much experience as he had in his little pinky.

Kurosaki Ichigo.

Was Soul Society so desperate that they had to send in some rookie who knew so little, even of his own role as a pawn? Someone who knew nothing but to push and push with his own strength, gaining skills only as he fought battles that would either result in grievous injuries or death?

Grimmjow laughed, a cruel chuckle lined with defeat.

It was this very human, seemingly weak, who had given him the scar that would lie on his abdomen forever.

It was this human who had taught him not to underestimate others, even if they lacked the experience.

It was this human who had been able to beat him soundly, even though he had been fighting at his best.

_It was laughable to even consider the possibility that there was even a human that could surpass him when it came to strength and skills. _And yet there was living proof.

He was a man of surprises, Kurosaki Ichigo.

Till the very end, even Grimmjow's life was spared. Kurosaki had shown pity as he held the Espada's life in his palm, even when he could have plunged the blade through and ended his wretched existence.

It was the ultimate humiliation that he would remember for the rest of his life, but at the same time, it was a first where Grimmjow willingly respect someone whole-heartedly.

The unwillingness to kill an opponent would be the kid's downfall, but it, too, was what he found to be an asset that would gain him the respect he deserved.

* * *

It might have been minutes or hours later after Grimmjow watched the blast, his back and limbs hurting from the previous battle that had needed 100% of his strength.

He had survived, and at the moment his future seemed terribly bleak. The fortress was almost completely destroyed by the explosion, void of all signs of life. His wounds were hardly healed, and moving away was a far dream at the moment.

_Would he die like this? Being humiliated so thoroughly and yet unable to lift a finger to exact his revenge, doomed to waste away in the deserts alone?_

Grimmjow forced himself to lift his right arm, scrunching his eyes slightly with the exertion and roaring pain that screamed at him to cease all movement to prevent further damage. The arm straightened unsteadily and Grimmjow stared at his fingers, clenching them into a fist before opening them slowly.

He had met a worthy opponent. That in itself was the most satisfying part of his life after meeting Aizen.

Cyan blue eyes softened as the corner of his lips widened into a half-smile.

He lowered his arm, laying it down carefully beside him.

Slowly, one eye closed, followed by the other.

It was time to rest.

* * *

**A/N: I don't know what to say. Does it seem too informative? Either way, thank you very much for reading! **


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